


Blinded by the thirst of sin

by Burtonized



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Blood, Blood Drinking, Bottom Choi San, Bottom Jung Wooyoung, Choi San is Whipped, Clubbing, Explicit Sexual Content, Jung Wooyoung is Whipped, Like, Lots of biting, M/M, No Beta, Sexual Tension, Smut, Switching, Top Choi San, Top Jung Wooyoung, We Die Like Men, other members are mostly mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:29:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27311203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burtonized/pseuds/Burtonized
Summary: San was having a very big gay crisis.Or his second gay awakening.(Or worse, both.)Or: San likes to go clubbing on Friday night, together with his friends Mingi and Yunho. One particular night, however, the most gorgeous guy he has ever laid eyes on comes towards him, bringing an air of confidence and a lot of sexual tension with him. San finds himself unable to pull away, even when the beautiful stranger turns out to be not quite what San expected.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Comments: 11
Kudos: 296





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, hello, annyeong! Welcome to this new Woosan fic that was supposed to be short, but is already getting out of control again. Since I really wanted to update this on Halloween, I have decided to split the story into at least two chapters (depending on how much further it'll get out of hand, it might become three, but no promises on that).
> 
> Either way, enjoy!
> 
> And as always, the biggest thanks to the San to my Woo, to the Johnny to my Jaehyun, to the Kihyun to my Changkyun - Rai, I wouldn't have been able to do this without you. Love you to bits, babe!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but my imagination and mistakes.

San was having a very big gay crisis.

Or his second gay awakening.

(Or worse, _both_.)

Either way, it was safe to assume that San was very much not okay, even after taking his tendency to exaggerate into account. Not that he was exaggerating this time around, not at all, not even a little.

Okay, maybe a teensy tiny bit, but that was entirely beside the point and it didn’t alter the fact that San was seriously, shamelessly, wholeheartedly staring at the three men that stood at the bar, looking like they had just walked out of a damn magazine, all polished and tailored and ridiculously handsome.

It was a Friday night, somewhere in the middle of November, and that meant that San was at one of the nightclubs near the campus, together with the idiotic duo Mingi and Yunho, who he considered to be his best friends. They were idiots, but at least they were _his_ idiots.

(And of pretty much every other student that walked around campus, considering both Mingi and Yunho were annoyingly friendly and as a result popular with most of the students that had the tiniest bit of care to give towards parties that neither Mingi nor Yunho ever failed to attend.

But again, that was beside the point.)

But alas, Friday night meant that San would force himself into a tight pair of fake leather jeans, a sultry blouse with too many buttons undone, and dark makeup accentuating his catlike features. Look, he knew he was handsome, and he had long ago learned how to enhance his appearance. A year of clubbing with his friends, who were both unfairly handsome and into fashion and makeup, certainly did that to someone.

Most nights started and ended all the same, with pregame shots back at one of the dorms, getting the three (or four, on the increasingly rare occasions Hongjoong managed to haul his ass out of the studio long enough to enjoy the more simple things in life) of them into an uber shortly after, and then they would dance and drink the night away until they were drunk on both the alcohol and the fake sense of freedom, before they would somehow manage to find their way to their dorms again.

The middle of their boisterous night sometimes varied, though not that often. Occasionally, one of them (mostly San, considering Mingi and Yunho were not just idiots, but also very dense and oblivious idiots that had been putting San through the worst case of mutual pining ever known to mankind for months on end now) would hook up with someone pretty, losing themselves in the pleasure and the lust in a shady and somewhat secluded area of the nightclub, before they would go their merry way again.

San never brought anyone back to his dorm, not anymore. During his first year of university he had, but the awkwardness and bad sex had stopped being worth it quite some time ago.

Still, San enjoyed the nightlife, partly because it gave rise to the obvious game of cat and mouse most people liked to play. San loved to flirt — or rather, to be flirted with. He loved losing himself in the sensual nothings that fuelled something within him, despite knowing full well how meaningless it all was in the end.

But he enjoyed it anyway, liking the attention, loving the superficial feeling of being wanted by people he didn’t know and probably wouldn’t see again after the break of dawn.

It was thrilling, adrenaline pumping in his alcohol-filled veins, a perfect opportunity to simply forget about how much of a bitch university was most of the time, even if just for the night.

(Sometimes, San wished the game to be over though, missing the feeling of waking up to someone he cared for, missing the feeling of falling asleep in the arms of someone that cared for him.

But he squashed those wishes before they could bloom, for multiple reasons he didn’t quite understand, for reasons he didn’t want to understand.)

Normally, that was how the Friday nights were supposed to go; routine edged in so deep by now that not even some random variables could change the inevitable outcome.

But that was on a _normal_ Friday night and normal Friday nights didn’t have three God-like men standing at the bar, waiting for their drinks to be served by a bartender that flushed too deep and struggled too hard for someone that was supposed to be a professional.

So, perhaps it was safe to say that it wasn’t a normal Friday night. That could certainly explain why San was feeling far from okay, eyes unable to move away from the trio.

His hand felt around, colliding with Yunho’s long and sturdy torso next to him, and his fingers wrapped around the material of Yunho’s shirt, yanking the taller boy closer.

“Who the fuck are they?” he asked, voice raised into a semi-yell in order for Yunho to hear him over the loud thumping of the base of some pop-song the DJ was playing. Honestly, the music was rather shit, but it got people dancing, and going out was always more fun when the dance floor was just a crowded place of bodies writhing together.

“Who?” Yunho yelled back, eyes fleeting in all the wrong directions as he tried to find the group of people San meant.

San nodded towards them, making a vague motion with his hand that got lost along the way. “ _Them_ ,” he said, nodding in their direction once more. “I have never seen them before.”

Yunho’s eyes narrowed to slits as he followed San’s line of direction, before they opened wide again. “No idea.” He let out a loud, appreciative whistle through his teeth. “All I know is that they make me realize how incredibly gay I am.”

San snorted. “Glad I’m not alone in my gay crisis.”

“Who’s having a gay crisis?” Mingi interjected, slinging an arm around San’s and Yunho’s shoulder, effectively sandwiching himself between them. It looked rather odd, considering San was shorter than the both of them, but Mingi didn’t seem to care, pulling the both of them close in an almost uncomfortable semi-hug.

“All of us,” Yunho sighed, though it hardly sounded like he really minded.

“Damn,” Mingi groaned, deep voice low and vibrating in his chest, once he had figured out where he was supposed to look. Not that it was very hard to figure out, considering more people around them were shamelessly staring in the same direction. “God had obvious favourites.”

San silently agreed, because there was no way these three guys _weren’t_ anything but God’s favourites.

They were all unfairly pretty, with strong features that seemed to be carved out of stone, their skin fair and smooth even in the harsh lighting of the club. San wondered whether they were related, considering they all had a full head of blonde hair, though the blonde was different for each person. One of them was a bit taller than the rest, all long thin limbs, his hair a pretty shade of a silvery blonde, falling in soft waves around his face. He looked up at some point, eyes scanning around the room, and San couldn’t help but think the features resembled Toothless, his eyes dark and round, nose narrow and a tad flat. He looked, for a lack of better word, almost regal, his poise all grace and straight, thin waist accentuated in his pants.

The other two guys seemed to be almost the same height, hanging onto one another in a way that could be either completely platonic or romantic. The guy nearest to San was shielding the other guy, making it nearly impossible to make out the features of the third guy. But the second guy, who allowed the third guy to snuggle into his side, had beautiful golden locks, framing his face and gracing his shoulder. His eyes where a light shade of blue, though San couldn’t tell whether the colour was real or not. There was a hint of a birthmark underneath his left eye, the skin uncharacteristically pink against his otherwise fair skin. His face was breath-taking, all soft features and plush lips, a smile that made his cheeks squish up adorably.

San continued to admire them from his place on the dance floor, Mingi still squashed against his side, though his friends seemed to have lost interest in the beautiful males already, finding their way back to the far too obvious pining San was starting to grow tired of.

He shot his friends a look, laughing at the way their drunk antics attracted a crowd of their own, and he untangled himself from Mingi’s arm with practiced ease. It was better to slowly slip back into the crowd once Mingi and Yunho were like this, San had learned the hard way. He wasn’t as attuned to their wide movements and sudden motions and his ribs had hurt for weeks after the first and only time he had made the mistake of thinking it was fun to join their silly antics.

It was as he turned his gaze back, back to the mysterious trio, that he found himself staring straight into the face of the third guy, the one who had previously been shielded by the body of one of the others.

And fuck…

He was _gorgeous_.

His hair was a platinum blonde, pushed away from his face on one side to reveal his forehead, blue eyes (that _had_ to be lenses, San briefly thought — either that, or he was going crazy) staring straight back at San, dark kohl smudged around them. His features were strong and sharp, a jaw that could cut, a smirk that could _wound_. There was a mole underneath his left eye and San felt the sudden urge to place a kiss there.

Wait, _what_?

He was dressed like he wanted to seduce, a pair of fake leather pants hugging thighs that could crush, accentuating their glorious thickness. A flowy-looking button-up was tucked in the front of his pants, the material more see through than not, the top couple of buttons undone to reveal a smooth chest, the lines indicating that he was lean and took care of his body, without sweating away for hours in the gym.

And, oh _fuck_ , he was already moving towards San, gaze never wavering, his hips sashaying from side to side in a move that _dripped_ confidence.

San realized once again that he was utterly, wholeheartedly, undeniably gay.

The guy moved through the crowd with ease, his movements reminding San of those of a dancer, light on his feet and graceful with his body in a way only years of practice could provide. It drew him in, made it unable to look away from the other male.

“What are you doing in the middle of the dance floor all by yourself?”

 _God_ , San wanted to cry. Even his voice was like honey, higher than he had anticipated, but accent curling around the words in all the right ways, the smile on his lips making San weak to the knees. He actually _felt_ his brain fry and sizzle away, neurons dying on the spot as he experienced a severe case of _system overload_ , his mind completely blanking on him.

There were hands on his hips before he was aware of it, fingers digging harshly into the fake leather, hard enough to make San’s skin underneath the layers of fabric burn with _want_ , and the pressure allowed the other to pull San closer, to lure him in, until they were touching in a way strangers weren’t supposed to touch.

The stranger was all up in San’s space, hand still firmly on San’s hips, keeping San where he was, just a breath away of their hips slotting together. His face was close too, tilted up a little to bridge the minimal difference in height between them. San could see now that he was indeed wearing lenses, the blue too unnatural even in the artificial lighting of the club.

“I’m not all by myself,” San managed to say once his brain had _finally_ rebooted (which had taken considerably longer than he’d like to admit).

The stranger cocked his head to the side, an amused, lopsided grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh?”

It would be easy, so incredibly easy, to tell the beautiful stranger in front of him that he was with friends. He really hadn’t come here alone and even if San wasn’t near his friends at this exact moment, he wasn’t here all by himself.

But San suddenly couldn’t quite recall whether Mingi and Yunho were still dancing behind him, nor did he particularly care. Just because they always started and ended these nights together, didn’t mean they stayed together.

It _would_ be easy to tell the truth, but it was also incredibly easy not to.

“I’m here with you now, am I not?” San quipped instead, smiling in that particular way he knew would make his cheeks dimple attractively.

The stranger let out a laugh, loud and free, and it warmed something inside of San, making the blood in his veins turn into hot liquid. The fingers were still pressing into his thighs, insistent almost, a constant reminder that they were trapped in a position that hardly made any sense, but one that San hardly minded.

“Only if you want to be, baby boy,” he said, verbally giving San the option to walk away, despite his fingers saying quite the opposite.

Perhaps he _should_ walk away, because there was no way someone this breathtakingly beautiful could be real or be up to something good. There was a hint of something San couldn’t quite place in the way the stranger moved, in the way he talked, in the way he _looked_. It made his senses preen, made them howl softly in the depths of his soul, as if they softly whispered _watch out, danger_ in the vast nothingness that surrounded San’s already clouded judgement.

His own body betrayed the remaining slivers of rationality in his mind, his body leaning in, curling closer, breath ghosting over the stranger’s ear (which was filled with a variety of piercings, all of them glistening prettily in the flickering lights) as his hand found its way to the small waist of the stranger, gripping tightly once his fingers found their way home.

And he must already be going crazy, or be drunk on _more_ than just alcohol, because his mind could only think how perfectly his hand fit there, like he was made to hold the beautiful stranger in front of him.

“Only if you think you can make it worth my while,” San breathed, finding back his confidence now that they were treading into more familiar waters. This was what he did, this was what he knew — the harmless flirting and empty promises that made the night just a bit more fun, just a tad more thrilling.

The stranger smirked, something dark visible in his eyes, though it was dulled through the coloured lenses he wore. “I’ll make it _more_ than worth your while if you let me.”

“That’s a very bold promise,” San countered, allowing his other hand to follow the first, both hands grabbing the waist of the stranger, his own fingers digging into skin and taught muscles with deliberate intent.

The stranger finally released his bruising grip, and San swallowed the whine that bubbled in his throat, willing it to go down to where it came from. Arms got hooked around his neck instead, the stranger pressing himself closer as he almost lazily placed his arms in a comfortable position, his face still a bit tilted to look up at San.

“Is it?” he asked, his hips starting to move on their own accord to the music that was still playing loudly. It was one of the more decent pop songs mixed in with some other tunes San didn’t recognize, but he allowed his own body to move as well, synchronizing his movements with those of the stranger.

“I don’t know, you’re creating some very big shoes to fill,” he responded. “What if you suck?”

The stranger laughed again. “Oh, _honey_ , believe me when I say I sincerely hope to suck at _some point_ of this night, but not in the way you just implied.”

San’s breath hitched, images flooding into his brain with practiced ease, making heat pool in his stomach.

 _Fuck_.

He pulled the stranger closer, even though they were already practically glued together, their faces mere inches apart, breath ghosting over skin. “Is that what you hope to get out of this night, then?” he asked.

“There are a lot of things I hope to get out of this night,” the stranger shrugged. “But that mostly depends on what _you_ want to get out of this night, pretty boy.”

San cocked an eyebrow, feeling the growing confusion in himself. “Shouldn’t it depend on what we _both_ want?”

The question seemed to make something falter within the stranger, his air of confidence wavering for a split second as his brows furrowed together in a confusion that mirrored San’s own. But then the smile returned, and he truly seemed to be amused as he spoke, “I’ve learned long ago that most humans in places like these just want to _take_ without giving much in return.”

San huffed, his fingers digging harsher into skin. He didn’t miss the way the stranger arched into the touch. “Then you haven’t really met the right people.”

“Oh? Are you one of the right people, then?”

San leaned in, their lips almost touching, but not quite yet. “I like _giving_ as much as I like _taking_ ,” he spoke, lowering his voice a little, his eyes flickering down towards the pretty mouth of the stranger, before they snapped up again and he allowed himself to lean back once more.

It was the oddest game of cat-and-mouse San had ever played, but for some reason it was the most thrilling experience he had encountered in a very long time. There was something about the stranger, something he couldn’t quite place, but it made San stick around, it made him _want_ to keep the stranger close, to dig his fingertips harsh enough into fair skin to watch it bruise.

“Do you now?” the stranger breathed, his lips smirking up with something _promising_.

San gave a nod, though the movement was abandoned halfway through when he felt nimble fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck, twirling and tugging in all the right ways. If San wasn’t this lost in the beautiful stranger in front of him, he would have laughed at how ridiculously pliant and responsive he was to the touches and words of someone he hadn’t even known a full hour yet.

“Tell me what you want,” San urged, one hand coming up to lay against the stranger’s cheek, thumb dragging across the soft and fair skin. Their bodies were still moving to the beat, out of tempo and nothing more than their hips swaying from right to left.

The stranger entwined his fingers in San’s dark locks, pulling hard enough that San gasped, and the stranger used the moment to bring his lips close to San’s ears. “I want you to dance with me,” he muttered darkly, seductively. “I want you to use those hips like I know you can, pretty boy.”

It shouldn’t be as hot as it was, it really shouldn’t be, but _fuck_ , it somehow most definitely was and San’s body responded before his mind had properly understand the intention behind the words, his hands finding the hips of the male in front of him, crashing them against his own in a movement that almost seemed desperate.

(And perhaps he was, though he wasn’t even sure what he was desperate _for_.

All he knew was that this felt better, more exhilarating than any other hook up San had had ever since starting university, and he hadn’t lied when he said he liked giving as much as taking.

He really, desperately, wholeheartedly wanted to _give_.)

But the smile the stranger gave was worth it, his teeth showing, his eyes still dark as he matched San’s bold movements with similar eagerness. One blinding smile, and then the stranger unhooked his arms and turned in San’s hold, pressing his ass straight up against San’s crotch.

His brain died right that second, the overexcited neurons beyond help at this point, and San found he had no care left to give.

They swayed together, finding the rhythm of the music easily, falling into a routine that felt far too natural and calculated for two mere strangers, but San revelled in it. He knew his own capabilities and he knew full well that his hips were flexible to an extend that they could be considered a danger in themselves, but he was surprised to find the stranger matching the sinful grinding with almost practiced ease.

It was infuriatingly hot and San couldn’t help but grip harder, grip tighter, to pull _closer_ , and the stranger let it happen, moulding into San’s hold, hips never wavering, his head thrown back to lean on San’s shoulder as they lost themselves in the music, the remaining alcohol in their veins, and each other.

“Fuck, I knew you’d be good with your hips,” the stranger sighed wistfully, as if it pained him to admit it — in all the right ways.

“Yeah?” San responded, one hand moving a bit lower, resting on the stranger’s thighs (that really, honestly, were glorious as _fuck_ ). “How’d you know?”

The stranger giggled, a little out of breath. He was so incredibly responsive to San’s touch, body acting and reacting instantly to every little thing San did. It made San’s fried out brain wonder, wonder about things he _wanted_ , wonder about things he hadn’t done with hook ups for quite a while now.

“I’ve had my eye on you for a while,” the stranger admitted, one arm coming up to hook itself around San’s neck again, making his back arch in the most beautiful ways.

“Did you now?”

“It was impossible not to.” Breath ghosted over San’s neck as the stranger turned his head a little, and San swore he could _almost_ feel those pretty lips on his skin, but the stranger turned his head away again, sighing contently. “Your looks and moves are enough to catch _anyone’s_ attention.”

“Says you,” San countered, earning another laugh from the stranger. “Half the club was checking you and your little group of friends out.”

“Were you checking us out too?”

“I thought you had your eyes on me for a while now?”

The stranger laughed again, louder and brighter, before turned his head again to nuzzle against San’s neck. San squeezed the thigh he was still holding in response, baring his neck a little to give the stranger better access.

“You caught me,” he muttered, and the vibrations itched in the best ways against San’s sweat-slick skin, his body hot from dancing and something else, his mind hazy with alcohol and lust. “ _Fuck_ , you smell so good.”

This time, it was San’s turn to huff a laugh, surprised by the sudden comment, though it was not any less appreciated. “You think so?”

The stranger groaned. “You have no idea, pretty boy.”

“San.”

The stranger moved his head up, turning it at a slightly awkward angle to look San in the eye. It would have been easier to give him the lenience he needed to turn more, but San didn’t want their bodies to separate more than they needed to, and so he kept his grip steady and firm.

“My name is San,” he repeated, eyes locking with those of the stranger.

“That’s unfair,” the stranger chuckled, keeping their eyes locked as their bodies moved together. “Even your name is pretty.”

San gripped tighter, smiling far too broadly, his cheeks dimpling deeply. “I’m sure your name is pretty too.”

“It’s really not,” the stranger shrugged.

San lowered his head, lips near the shell of the stranger’s ears. “I’m sure I can make your name sound really, _really_ pretty.”

The stranger actually shuddered at that, his eyes closing for a flicker of a second as he allowed the words to settle. “Wooyoung,” he said, once his eyes were open and staring straight into San’s again.

“Wooyoung,” San repeated, letting the name roll off his tongue, taking his time savouring how it felt to utter the two syllables. It _was_ a pretty name, even if Wooyoung himself might not think so.

“Shit, you _do_ make it sound pretty,” Wooyoung said, as he turned around again in San’s arms. San let him, but his grip remained tight on Wooyoung’s hips, their bodies still moving in sync to the music, even if their position was a lot more intimate right now.

It certainly didn’t help that their dicks were now pretty much pressed together, considering they were _almost_ the same height, and it was the best kind of torture.

“I can make it sound even prettier,” San promised.

Wooyoung laughed, but he dropped his head, nuzzling against San’s neck once more. “That’s a very bold promise, San,” he said, echoing the words San had spoken earlier.

“I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep,” San countered, placing one of his hands on Wooyoung’s face again, forcing the other away from his neck. Wooyoung’s eyes were practically _burning_ and a hot wave of desire crashed through San’s body once more.

He wanted to act on it, he really did, and he most definitely would have, if not for his idiotic friends and their stupid, very inconvenient, and incredibly unwanted timing.

“Sannie!” Mingi yelled, sounding far drunker than before San had left his friends to themselves, hanging onto an equally drunk Yunho, and San actually groaned out loud.

Wooyoung smiled amusedly, eyes glancing between San and his friends who plastered themselves all over San, forcing San to let go of Wooyoung in order to save his own ribs from cracking.

“Sannie,” Yunho giggled. “We’re _drunk_.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” San nearly snarled, pushing the two giants off of him with great effort. Great, now the mood was ruined, and San was too sober at this point to just leave his friends be.

Wooyoung shot him an understanding look. “Go take your friends home, pretty boy,” he smirked. “I don’t think they’ll manage by themselves.”

“Trust me,” San said more bitterly than he intended, “they won’t.”

He ushered Mingi and Yunho forward, towards the cloakroom, noticing how Wooyoung stayed by his side as they moved through the still dancing crowd. At some point, the crowd thickened, and Wooyoung’s fingers slipped between San’s in order to not get separated. It sent a thrill down San’s spine that made him realize once again how ridiculously affected he was by Wooyoung.

San helped both Mingi and Yunho with their coats, rolling his eyes affectionately at their drunk antics, before he slipped on his own leather jacket. Wooyoung was still standing next to him, for some reason, and San found himself looking at the other male, a sudden feeling if inexplainable _loss_ filling his veins.

“Will I see you again?” he asked. His hands itched to grab Wooyoung again, to pull him close and to lose himself in the dance they had been dancing, but he refrained himself.

“I’ll be here again next week.” Wooyoung smiled, a promise hidden in the little smirk. He leaned forward then, placing his lips against San’s cheek for just a second, before he breathed, “Come find me again.”

One last smile was flashed at San, one last lock of their eyes, and San swore he could feel the static electricity between them burst, before Wooyoung turned around, finding his way back through the crowd.

San forced himself to turn around, to walk away, to make sure his cockblocking friends would get back safe to one of the dorms.

As they walked through the streets in the dead of the night, San making sure no one tripped or fell down, he felt a nervous excitement prickling underneath his skin, a building suspense of what was yet to come.

It was going to be a long week.

...

As expected, the week lasted for what felt like forever, classes dragging on and lectures lasting for what felt like a lifetime. And perhaps it would have been decent, or it would have felt less like torture, if it weren’t for the fact that Mingi was in most of his classes and Mingi was, and would always be, a little shit that grinned too broad and saw too much — even when drunk as hell.

Finally, Friday rolled around, though that was both a blessing and a curse, considering it meant that San would be stuck in a gruelling, three-hour lasting lecture that was given by a guy that should have never been allowed to teach. But as it was, San was forced to be there every single Friday, because attendance actually was taken, and he needed to keep his presence up if he wanted to keep up his good score. That didn’t mean that San didn’t detest this particular class with every fibre of his being, because he _did_.

Mingi was seated beside him, doodling on a spare piece of paper as the professor droned on and on. San too, had long since checked out, working on a project for another class that was due at the end of the weekend. It was how he often spend his time in this particular class, because the material wasn’t that difficult, and he had long ago decided he’d rather pay some money for a decent summary than force himself to feel his neurons die with each passing hour.

“We’re going clubbing again tonight,” Mingi said halfway through the lecture, keeping his voice down as to not disturb the professor. Not that the man ever really noticed, too engrossed in his too-busy PowerPoint slides to be able to focus on the mess that was the lecture hall. “You’re coming too?”

San snorted and rolled his eyes. “You have asked that same question at least a dozen of times in the past two days alone. My answer didn’t change.”

And _ah_ , there it was, that shit-eating grin that had been suspiciously absent the entire morning, and San knew he had walked right into the trap Mingi had set up.

“Oh, yeah,” Mingi chirped brightly. “Because you’ve got to see your hot guy again.”

“Laugh all you want,” San responded, whacking Mingi on the shoulder, “but you guys owe me for being major cockblocks.”

“Don’t worry,” Mingi hummed as he continued to doodle on the piece of paper. It was just a figure stick and some weird swirls, but Mingi seemed to be invested in the drawing, scratching harshly with his pen to add more jacked lines. “We’ll be out of your hair and get ourselves home tonight. Yunho will stay at my place too, so you have the dorm all to yourself.”

“You know I don’t take them home anymore, Mingi-ah.”

“You also don’t meet a hook up it _twice_ , but that isn’t going to stop you from seeking out hot shot tonight.”

“ _Wooyoung_ ,” San corrected with a bit of a grumble, refusing to acknowledge that Mingi was right. “Just stay out of my way, tonight, okay?”

Mingi’s grin only got broader, his eyes becoming mere slits with how wide his smile was. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re whipped, San-ah.”

San smacked him again, ignoring the taller male for the remainder of the lecture after that, because ignoring it was easier than admitting Mingi might not have been that wrong with his comment.

...

Preparations for the night out were still the same, because some things just never changed.

San was again dressed in a pair of ridiculously tight fake leather pants he knew accentuated his long legs and thin waist, a black t-shirt tugged into it, the neckline low and exposing his collar bones. He had topped it off with his combat boots and a flashy belt, knowing full well that simplicity was sometimes key, and he really did look good in dark colours, if Yunho’s whistles were anything to go by.

He had put on some makeup again too, accentuating his features in a way that had become familiar, not too much, but definitely enough to enhance whatever God had given him.

Mingi announced his arrival as loudly as ever, knocking on the door before barging in with bottles of alcohol in his hand, already finding his way to the kitchen before either San or Yunho had the change to voice a decent greeting, but that was normal too.

Shots were made, pictures were taken, alcohol filled their bodies sooner than later, and it was San that called for an uber, pushing the three of them out of the small dorm when he got the notification that their ride had arrived, and before San was well aware of it, they were squashed in the backseat, Yunho and Mingi already tipsy enough that they became a dangerous duo of loud sounds and obnoxious movements.

They got into the club easily enough, flashing their cards at the bouncer, who stamped the usual stamp on their hands and allowed them in. Yunho and Mingi giggled as they clung to each other, being the oblivious idiots they were when it came to one another, and San resisted the urge to push them away. He really, truly did not want to deal with their pining tonight.

“Go get your man!” Yunho said brightly, pushing San towards the bar, even though the bar was relatively empty and the handful of people that had taken a seat on one of the stools most definitely weren’t Wooyoung.

But San laughed, waving towards his friends as he watched them disappear in the crowd, their bodies being swallowed by the writhing bodies that danced together to the beats that were blasted from the speakers.

He ended up at the bar anyway, not really in the mood to dance.

(He _was_ in a mood to dance, but only with a certain blonde guy that wasn’t around yet. But San wasn’t about to admit that to himself.)

He ordered a drink, something that would take the edge of the nerves away that were definitely there underneath the surface, but something that wouldn’t push him into a state of tipsiness.

It was when he was halfway through his drink, his back towards the bar and his eyes on the steadily growing crowd surrounding him, that someone walked up to him. Someone who wasn’t Wooyoung — not even by a long shot. The dark-haired guy was taller than San and undeniable buff, with muscles that made the material of his too-tight shirt wrinkle in all the wrong places.

San supposed some might found it attractive, but the vision of flowy see-through fabric on a lean body clouded his mind and there was nothing about the male that pushed himself into San’s personal space that he could ever really find attractive.

“Hey,” the male said, his voice deep and gravely. The smell of cigarettes hit San’s nostrils a second later and he cringed a little in distaste. “What is a pretty thing like you doing here all by yourself?”

San sipped his drink, eyeing the male in front of him. “Who says I’m here all by myself?”

The male laughed, deep and entirely _wrong_ , forcing himself closer into San’s personal space. “I don’t see anyone around, doll,” he retorted, smiling in a way he thought must be charming, but actually made the insides of San’s stomach turn uncomfortably.

“Just because you don’t see anyone immediately, doesn’t mean he’s alone.”

San’s head snapped away from the guy in front of him, to see Wooyoung standing just a step or two behind the guy, looking downright _annoyed_. And fuck, it looked unfairly attractive on him.

He was dressed similar like last time, in a pair of fake leather pants not unlike the one San was currently wearing, a see-through button-up with velvet animal stripes on them to give the vibe that it wasn’t entirely see-through, a pair boots on his feet.

His hair was parted in the middle, falling down his forehead, though it was obvious he had raked his hands through the blonde strands often enough, the hair a bit messy and unmade. His eyes were rimmed with kohl again, though he wasn’t wearing the blue lenses tonight, his own eye colour dark and alluring, and San felt his breath hitch a little as their eyes locked.

The guy turned around, shamelessly eyeing Wooyoung up and down. There would be no denying that Wooyoung was prettier than the guy, with features that seemed to be carved out of stone and an overall presence that was unlike anything San had ever witnessed, but the guy was almost a head taller, as well as twice as wide in the muscle department, and it seemed that the muscles gave the guy a sense of confidence, because he huffed out a laugh.

“ _Please_ ,” the guy drawled, and San had to resist the urge to roll his eyes, “you weren’t even around half a minute ago. So be a dear and leave us two be, hm?”

Wooyoung cocked an unimpressed eyebrow, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “You do realize that’s not how it works, right?”

The guy pushed himself away from San’s space (fucking _finally_ , San’s mind helpfully provided) and moved into Wooyoung’s instead, clearly trying to be intimidating. Wooyoung, however, didn’t even flinch, looking at the guy with a gaze that bordered on utter boredom and straight up annoyance.

“I was here first,” the guy seethed through his teeth, “so fuck off before I _make_ you fuck off.”

“Technically,” Wooyoung said, grabbing the guy’s hand with one swift motion, fingers pressing into the skin harshly, hard enough to make the guy gasp in pain, “I was here last week already, and therefore first. So you can kindly piss off yourself.”

The guy writhed in Wooyoung’s hold, throwing a confused and pained look towards San, before he snatched his hand back. Even in the low lighting San could see how red and angry the skin looked where Wooyoung had pressed his fingertips and it made San frown in confusion. Was Wooyoung really that strong?

Wooyoung stalked past the guy, eyes on San, a smirk around his lips, before he wrapped and arm around San’s waist and pressed his lips against San’s temple. “Hey, baby boy,” he said, loud enough for the guy to hear and San couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him as he watched the guy’s face fall in disbelief.

Deciding to make it even clearer that San was most definitely _not_ interested, he snuggled closer into Wooyoung’s hold, turning his head so he could press a chaste kiss against that sharp jawline that had been haunting his dreams for the past week. “Hey, babe,” he muttered, ignoring the way his heart stammered against his ribcage at the revelation of how _easy_ the term of endearment slipped off his tongue.

The guy grumbled something unintelligible, giving them one last look before he trudged off towards the dance floor, no doubt in search of his next victim. San watched him go, but only for a fraction of a second before he turned his attention back to Wooyoung.

Even with the other guy gone, Wooyoung kept his arm around San’s waist and San leaned into him, enjoying the way the embrace felt. It had a hint of possessiveness in it, that got fuelled by the occasional look that was thrown their way. People would lock eyes with either Wooyoung or San, interest flickering across their features, before their gaze would find the embrace they were in, disappointment following suit.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Wooyoung said, making San look up, away from the dancing crowd in front of them. “I got held up by my friends.”

“It’s fine,” San assured him. “We didn’t exactly agree on a time or anything like that.”

“I know, but if I’d been here earlier that guy wouldn’t have bothered you.”

“He was hardly bothering me,” San said, and he meant it. Sure, the guy had been a bit annoying and had been unable to take a hint, but San would have been able to handle it by himself. That didn’t mean, however, that he hadn’t severely enjoyed watching Wooyoung handling it for him. “But I must say that it was kinda hot to watch you put him in his place.”

Wooyoung smirked and San realized how much _darker_ his eyes were without the lenses, and he didn’t simply mean the obvious difference in colour. They almost smouldered like this, hot and heavy, filled with intent, and San felt himself drawn to them, felt himself attracted to Wooyoung with every fibre of his being. It wasn’t an unwelcome sensation, but it threw him off, made him hyperaware of everything he did.

“Yeah?” Wooyoung asked, tightening his hold around San’s waist.

“Definitely,” San assured him. “But remind me to never piss you off. It looked like you have a much stronger grip than I would have given you credit for.”

Wooyoung laughed, the sound light and free and _right_ , and San felt himself smile in response. He had missed that laugh for some reason, had heard it more than once in his dreams, and he sincerely must be going mental, because he couldn’t remember ever being this affected by someone he had now met twice.

“Don’t worry, Sannie,” Wooyoung smiled and San ignored the way his heart missed a beat at the nickname. “I’ll only use my strength to make you feel good.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” San retorted.

“Hm, I hope you will,” Wooyoung hummed, fingers trailing up and down San’s waist, leaving behind a burning sensation that felt far too good, making San want more, making his brain hazy with a feeling he knew too well.

He downed the rest of his drink before standing up rather suddenly. Wooyoung cocked an eyebrow in surprise, but remained stationed otherwise.

“Dance with me again,” San said, suddenly _needing_ the feeling of Wooyoung’s body moving against his own again. It had been too good, too great to _not_ dance again, and Wooyoung just laughed, smile wide and pretty, as he followed San through the crowd.

Wooyoung slipped his arms around San’s neck again, pressing himself close, hips slotting together with deliberate intent, and San’s hand found their way home onto Wooyoung’s waist again, keeping him close even if Wooyoung showed no intention to move away.

Their hips swayed in sync, so incredibly in tune, just like last time, and it was easy to lose himself in the enigma that was Wooyoung, in the incredibly mystery that the beautiful male in front of him was.

“Fuck, your hips are _insane_ , baby,” Wooyoung said, sounding a little breathless. San couldn’t blame him, especially since he was hardly any better, his breath high in his throat and too superficial.

“You haven’t even witnessed the full potential of their flexibility,” San countered, and he could actually see Wooyoung’s pupils dilate at that, his eyes darkening considerably.

Wooyoung dived forward, lips skimming over San’s neck again, and San felt Wooyoung breathe in deeply, before he pushed himself on his toes, lips against the shell of San’s ear as he breathed a shaky, “I intend to witness it sooner than later, if I’m honest.”

“Perhaps you will,” San countered, smirking a little, even if Wooyoung didn’t see. The other male still had his face buried in San’s neck, lips ghosting over the skin, still not quite touching, but they were _there_.

It honestly just added to the pool of heat that cursed through San’s entire body.

“Shit, you smell so good,” Wooyoung said softly, as if San wasn’t meant to hear it.

“You said that last week too,” San commented, because he _had_ heard it.

Wooyoung leaned back, locking their eyes again. His gaze was even darker than before, full of hunger, and San felt himself fall a little deeper into those dark orbs, losing himself into the insanity that was Wooyoung.

“You really do smell good and it’s making me go insane,” Wooyoung said and it was a bit of an odd compliment, not the usual pickup line most people would use, but there was something in the way Wooyoung said it, in the way his eyes burned with _something_ that San felt weak in the knees and hot all over.

San’s fingers dug harsher into the flesh on Wooyoung’s waist, the fabric of his blouse soft against his fingertips. “How insane?”

Wooyoung pushed his hips forward and _fuck_ , San could feel the other was half-hard in those sinfully tight pants, and the feeling shot straight to his own dick. He really was about to pop a boner in a club, all because of some grinding and mutual pining with a guy he hardly knew.

But Wooyoung had affected him differently than anyone else from the very first moment, so maybe it wasn’t that big of a surprise that San’s body reacted the way it did.

Wooyoung smirked again. “That enough of an answer for you?”

One of San’s hands came up, curling around Wooyoung’s neck, fingers entangling themselves in the blonde strands, and he _tugged_ , forcing Wooyoung to tilt his head a little in just the right angle.

“More than enough,” he breathed, before _finally_ leaning forward and doing what he should have done last week already.

Wooyoung responded immediately, lips crashing together with force, but it felt _good_ , too good, and San was pretty sure he had never kissed anyone like this before — and that no one had ever kissed him back like this.

Wooyoung’s hands found home in San’s hand, grasping the strands tightly, sending sparks of pain and pleasure down San’s spine, making San hold on tighter too, keeping Wooyoung close.

And _shit_ , San had expected Wooyoung to be good with his mouth, because he certainly knew how to use it when talking, but he hadn’t been able to prepare him for just _how_ good.

He couldn’t help but gasp into the kiss when Wooyoung bit on his bottom lip, the slight sting only adding to the pleasure, allowing Wooyoung to slip his tongue in, giving Wooyoung all the control he needed.

Hips pushed against his own again, and the friction was too fucking good, and San was seriously hard by now, but couldn’t find it in him to care. Everything was both too much and not enough, and with every passing second San found himself wanting more, craving more of the drug that was Wooyoung.

He only had this first taste, but he was addicted, nonetheless.

At some point, San had to pull back a little, gasping for air and Wooyoung let his lips wander lower, _finally_ place hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin of San’s neck.

“Come home with me,” Wooyoung spoke against his neck, in-between kisses that blurred together, fuelling the hazy feeling in San’s mind and body.

San choked on a moan that threatened to come out, before managing to utter a nearly desperate, “Fuck, yes, _please_.”

Wooyoung smiled up at him, eyes dark and filled with lust, before interlacing their fingers together. “Let’s go, then.”

San didn’t need to be told twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the first chapter! Kudos and comments are always appreciated and make me type a hella lot faster. Next chapter is already in the works, but life is starting to get busier, so I'm not yet sure when I'll be able to upload it. But it should be sooner than later!
> 
> Until then, stay safe, stay healthy, and I'll see you all next chapter!
> 
> Also, come scream at me on Tumblr (@Burtonized), because I like finding new moots to talk to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Wooyoung."
> 
> "Yes?"
> 
> " _Ruin me._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back for the second and final chapter of this fic! I'm sorry it took me a bit longer than intended to finish this, but I quite suddenly had to pack and move, so time was a bit limited.
> 
> That being said, this chapter contains a lot of mentions of blood, so if that's not your thing, do not read. Otherwise, enjoy this absolute filth!

To say it was a bit of a surprise to be dragged to an actual car that Wooyoung apparently owned was a bit of an understatement.

San had wholeheartedly expected they would either walk to wherever Wooyoung lived or they would call an uber. Wooyoung didn’t seem like he was that much older than San, and while San knew a lot of students did have cars, he also knew most students didn’t have the kind of car that stood in front of them.

The Audi A4 looked new, all sleek and shiny, the black looking all pretty even in the crappy lighting of the garage.

Wooyoung had already stepped into the driver’s seat and San hurriedly stepped in too, letting out a low whistle once he was seated.

“Do I want to know how you got the money for this?” he asked, half-heartedly joking, but also really curious to know the answer.

Wooyoung started the car, the engine growling as it came to life, and he backed out of the parking spot, keeping his eyes on the road as he pulled out of the garage and onto the highway. “I had quite a few well-off family members that were kind enough to put me in their will. It’s mostly inheritance, really.”

San hummed, wondering whether Wooyoung was telling the entire truth or not, but he had no reason to believe that Wooyoung was lying to him.

The drive was mostly silent, but it turned out they both enjoyed the same music, and they sang along to a handful of songs, their hands entwined on the gear stick, and Wooyoung looked at him more often than not, a growing smile on his face.

“You have such a pretty voice,” Wooyoung said, once they pulled up in the driveway of a house that looked ridiculously fancy. He leaned forward then, lips skimming over San’s jawline. “I can’t wait to hear you moan my name with that pretty voice of yours.”

The mood, understandably, had calmed down a bit during the drive. As much as San had wanted to continue what they had started at the club, he really didn’t have a death wish, and he had kept his hands to himself as Wooyoung had driven them through the city.

But it seemed Wooyoung was able to thicken the entire mood again with just that one sentence, San’s dick already twitching in interest again as he unconsciously bared his neck, allowing Wooyoung to nip at the sensitive skin.

“As much as I want to ravish you already,” Wooyoung muttered against his neck, placing one last kiss before he leaned back again, “I really want to take this inside.”

“Then take me inside,” San whispered back, but somehow his mouth found Wooyoung’s again, and Wooyoung actually growled into the kiss, pushing and pulling, practically climbing on top of San’s lap with a flexibility that shouldn’t be human, but San was too far gone to complain, his hands grabbing Wooyoung’s thighs, squeezing them as he chased Wooyoung for the kisses that shouldn’t be as addictive as they were.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Wooyoung swore into the kiss, but San drank the sounds away, biting and sucking with deliberate intent, wanting to see marks blossoming on Wooyoung’s body, wanting the other to remember this night as much as San wanted to remember it too.

“I really, _really_ , want to take this inside, baby,” Wooyoung managed to utter in-between kisses. His pupils were impossibly blown, lust and hunger evident as he stared down at San, his fingers still gripping his hair tightly, forcing San to tilt his head upwards.

“What’s stopping you?” San asked, breathing heavily. He really wasn’t sure how he managed to form coherent sentences right now, considering his brain had clocked out long ago, neurons too fried to properly send the signals the rest of his brain needed. All he could think about was Wooyoung and how stupidly addictive he was.

Wooyoung laughed, but it sounded too breathy, sending a chill down San’s spine. “ _You_.” He smiled, placing another kiss on San’s lips before he finally untangled himself, stepping out of the car with flexible movements that made it seem far too easy.

San followed swiftly, their hands entwining again as they found their way to the entrance of the house. It seemed to be grand, judging from the outside, and San’s suspicions were confirmed once he stepped inside.

“Damn,” he whistled appreciatively, letting his eyes roam around the spacious rooms that lay in front of him. “More inheritance?” he joked, looking at Wooyoung from the corners of his eyes.

“Partly.” Wooyoung shrugged. “Mostly just my eldest brother being far too rich for his own good.”

“You live with your brother?” San asked as they moved through the hallway and into what seemed to be the living room.

The entire room looked pristine, all clean-cut furniture and colors that coordinated beautifully together. The vibe was rather high-end, but there was a homey feeling in there somewhere, one San could appreciate.

“He’s not _technically_ my brother,” Wooyoung responded, leading San further into the house, into the kitchen. “But that’s a long and complicated story, and he practically feels like a brother anyway. So yeah, I live with my brother. The both of them, actually.”

San watched as Wooyoung made them both a drink, accepting the tall glass as Wooyoung handed it to him.

“You’ll need to be hydrated,” Wooyoung said as he nodded towards the glass. San hadn’t asked, but he _had_ wondered.

“Oh?”

Wooyoung’s smirk should be illegal, holding all the promises San could ever ask for. “I _did_ say I would make it worth your while, Sannie.” He moved closer again, into San’s personal space, and San welcomed him with open arms, letting one arm sneak around Wooyoung’s waist again, pulling him closer.

“Still think you can live up to that promise?”

“Oh, baby,” Wooyoung chuckled darkly, “I will _exceed_ it.”

“Hm, I have some seriously high expectations now,” San quipped, taking a sip from his drink. He didn’t miss the way Wooyoung followed the action, his eyes trailing down over San’s neck again. From what San had gathered, Wooyoung must have a serious neck kink or something — not that he minded.

“Do you now?” Wooyoung’s hands found their way into San’s hair again, though this time he didn’t tug or pull, simply twirling a few strands between his fingertips. “Tell me about them.”

San took another couple of sips, suddenly feeling incredibly thirsty (in more ways than one), placing the now empty glass on the counter beside him. “I expect to not be able to walk properly tomorrow, my body marked and ruined for _anyone_ else.”

The response was immediate, Wooyoung crashing their lips together in a kiss that burned in all the right ways, fingers bruising into skin. Wooyoung licked into his mouth again, and San let him, loving the way it felt, loving the way Wooyoung tasted.

Wooyoung backed him against the counter, locking him in and suddenly two things happened at once.

First, San tripped over _something_ , most likely his own feet, but it made him stumble backwards, hand automatically coming out to catch the fall that wasn’t even going to happen.

Second, his hand graced the glass in an unfortunate manner, sending it flying off the counter and smashing it to pieces on the stone tiles of the kitchen floor.

“ _Shit_ ,” San gasped as they immediately broke apart at the sound, his eyes fleeting towards the broken shards. “I am so sorry! I’ll clean it up -- _fuck_.”

He immediately crouched down, slightly shaking fingers grabbing bigger glass pieces and putting them together. Wooyoung crouched down with him, trying, for some reason, to get San to stop doing what he was doing.

“Sannie, leave it be.”

“No, no, I don’t want you to deal with the mess I made.”

“Sannie, baby, I don’t want you to hurt—"

“ _Fuck_.”

San’s curse resonated loudly through the kitchen, bouncing against the stone tiles, but San didn’t care. A sharp pain pulsed through his finger and he held up his hand experimentally, a cut visible in his index finger, blood already welling up from the wound.

It hurt, as was to be expected, considering he had just sliced his skin open, but it didn’t seem to be a deep wound, nothing some disinfectant and a band-aid couldn’t fix.

“Do you have—” San started, but upon seeing Wooyoung’s face, the remainder of the sentence died a silent death in his throat.

Wooyoung’s eyes were on his injured hand, pupils far too wide for the situation at hand. He moved, then, his own hands carefully grabbing San’s hand, eyes still stuck on the blood that welled up from the wound.

It seemed like he was simply inspecting the wound, but then he moved forward, in a way that screamed desperation and his lips attached themselves to San’s finger, his tongue swiping over the wound and —

Wooyoung actually _moaned_ , unlike anything San had ever heard, and his brain had a really difficult time understanding what in the world was going on, because his injured finger was in Wooyoung’s mouth and Wooyoung was actually _sucking_ on the wound by now in a way that didn’t seem to be entirely sexual.

“Wooyoung…?” San asked tentatively, not sure how to approach the other male. Wooyoung seemed _gone_ , his entire posture suddenly different, reminding San of a hunter stalking its prey.

And then his eyes snapped up, horror and hunger mixing in his eyes that glowed _red_ , and San should have done what any human would have done, but he found himself frozen on the spot, finger _still_ in Wooyoung’s mouth, unable to look away from the red in Wooyoung’s eyes that seemed to fade back into darkness with each silent second that passed.

Wooyoung moved back very carefully, his entire body tense as he finally released San’s finger. For some ridiculous reason, the cut was _gone_ , just a tender pink scar the only evidence that San’s finger had been hurt, but just staring at it made the pinkness fade into almost nothing and San’s head started to hurt with something he didn’t understand.

He looked at Wooyoung again, back to his finger, and then back to Wooyoung.

“Okay, what the _fuck_ ,” he exclaimed, his brain not quite sure whether it needed to be scared shitless because he was surely going mad or whether he needed to be turned on, because somehow, the entire situation had been _hot_ and their promises still lingered in the air and San could still taste Wooyoung on his tongue.

Wooyoung breathed in sharply, mouth slightly ajar and San’s eyes involuntarily locked on the things he probably shouldn’t see, that shouldn’t be real.

Fangs.

Fucking _fangs_.

Wooyoung still looked at him in horror, his eyes wide, but there was that hunger too, and San wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“I--I… _Shit_ , I can explain—”

“How the fuck are you gonna explain _this_?” San interrupted, holding up his now completely healed index finger, waggling it around. There was nothing as he did so, no pain or discomfort.

“I healed it for you,” Wooyoung muttered, sinking back on his knees and suddenly looking incredibly defeated.

“You… _What_?”

Wooyoung looked up and licked his lips, red still staining his tongue, something flashing across his features. “ _Think_ , San. You have all the hints you need, and I _really_ don’t feel like spitting it out to you.”

San’s brain felt fried as heck, and he seriously struggled to comprehend the situation that was currently his life, but he also wasn’t stupid. It was just that it felt too insane to be true, despite every road and hint leading to the exact same conclusion.

And then he huffed a laugh, shaking his head in amusement. “I should have known you were too perfect to be human.”

Wooyoung cocked his head to the side, but visibly relaxed, shoulders no longer tense and nails no longer digging into his own hands. “You’re not scared?” he asked, voice softer than San had ever heard.

Was he scared?

It wasn’t an unreasonable question, considering San was seated on the floor with a finger that shouldn’t have been healed yet, in the company of a person that wasn’t as human as San had originally thought. It thoroughly confused him, giving rise to a gazillion questions that fought to be answered, but try as he might, San couldn’t find it in him to be scared.

Maybe he really was going insane.

“I’m mostly confused,” Sad admitted, locking eyes again with Wooyoung. His eyes were dark brown again, all traces of the red gone. “Never would have thought that _vampires_ actually exist.”

Wooyoung barked a laugh, but it sounded rather emotionless. “We’re not with that many, but we do exist.”

“So, your brothers that aren’t really your brothers?”

“Vampires too. Seonghwa is one of the eldest still around, and he’s the one that turned me all those years ago. Yeosang joined us a few years after and it’s been the three of us ever since.” He shrugged, as if the information wasn’t that mind-blowing. “Seriously, you’re not scared?”

San cocked his head to the side. “Are you going to kill me?”

“I— _what_?” Wooyoung looked at him as if San actually _was_ insane. “Why would I kill you?”

“You were sucking rather enthusiastically on my finger a minute ago, so you tell me.”

Wooyoung ducked his head in something akin the embarrassment. There was no flush in his cheeks, and San supposed that was because of his non-human nature, but the action made him seem far more human than it should.

“You just taste really good, okay?” Wooyoung muttered, barely audible. “I feel like I’ve been drunk on your smell ever since I met you and normally I have really good self-control, but then you were suddenly bleeding and _fuck_ , San, you smell and taste fucking divine and I just… lost control?”

San looked at Wooyoung for a couple of seconds, silence stretching between them as San allowed the words to settle. “You lost control… because of me?”

“I’ve never had this before, I swear,” Wooyoung groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “No one has ever smelled this good to me and it seriously messes with my head.”

San couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face, carefully crawling away from the place he had been seated, making sure not to cut himself again, and bridged the distance between them, carefully prying Wooyoung’s hands away from his face.

“So, you’re not going to kill me?” San asked, because he needed to know, needed to know the answers to a handful of questions and they could figure out the rest later.

“Why would I kill you?” Wooyoung retorted, asking the same question he had asked before, sounding as if the question was ridiculous.

“You’re a vampire. Don’t you need blood to live?”

Wooyoung huffed. “Yes, but I do not need to kill for that. I can easily go to people who offer their blood willingly or get one of the blood bags Seonghwa gets from his work at the hospital. We’re not as… animalistic as the books and stories portrayed us to be.”

“So, there is no chance I will die tonight nor is there a change you’ll make me forget?”

Wooyoung threw him another _look_. “Why would I make you forget?”

“I don’t know,” San shrugged. “Usually whenever someone finds out that vampires or other otherworldly creatures exist, they either die or get their memories wiped.”

“Are you going to tell around that vampires exist?”

“No. I don’t think anyone would believe me anyway.”

“Then there is no reason to kill you or make you forget.”

San looked at him, _really_ looked at him, and he was once again hit with the realization of how incredibly beautiful Wooyoung was. It was funny, and probably slightly insane, how San had felt more scared at the idea of _forgetting_ than of the idea of _dying_.

He didn’t want to forget. Hell, he wanted to _remember_ and make memories worth remembering. He had never felt like this before about a hook up and that alone told him more than it probably should.

“Good,” he hummed, finding his way back into Wooyoung’s personal space, their faces close again. There was a metallic smell on Wooyoung’s breath and San belatedly realized it must be his own blood. “I really didn’t plan on dying or forgetting tonight.”

Wooyoung placed his hand on San’s thighs, moving in such a way that San could sit on his lap. They were still in the kitchen, broken shards of glass just behind them, but neither seemed to care, already getting lost in their own world again.

There was just _something_ about Wooyoung, something that drew San in, and he couldn’t pull away, couldn’t get rid of the magnetic attraction that lingered in the air.

“And if I remember correctly,” San continued, lowering his voice, “you promised you would exceed my expectations.”

Wooyoung chuckled darkly, but his pupils dilated, and his fingers dug harshly into the meat of San’s thighs, the sting more welcome than not. “Me being a vampire does not exceed your expectations?”

“Not yet,” San responded, lazily circling his arms around Wooyoung’s neck. “But it _could_.”

“Don’t tell me you have a biting kink.”

San placed his lips against Wooyoung’s jaw, following along the sharpness of it until his lips graced the shell of Wooyoung’s ear. “And what if I do?”

An actual growl escaped Wooyoung, low and hungry, and a hand tangled in San’s hair, forcing his head back, forcing him to look at Wooyoung again.

“Don’t say things like that if you don’t mean them, San,” Wooyoung said darkly and _oh_ , San felt a delicious shiver run down his spine, settling his body on fire in all the right ways.

“What makes you think I don’t mean it?”

Wooyoung made a nearly inhuman sound before he crashed their lips back together, almost desperately so, his fingers clawing at the strands that were still entwined between his fingers, to the point where it hurt, but it was the right kind of pain, the type that made San _want_.

“Don’t tempt me,” Wooyoung whined against their attached lips. “Especially not after I already tasted you.”

The words only fuelled the fire that raged inside San’s body and he was pretty sure he had gone completely mental, but he found himself _wanting_ to tempt Wooyoung. He had never been opposed to biting, had always been able to enjoy it, especially with the right partner, and the idea of Wooyoung biting him, feeding off of him, aroused him more than he ever thought it could.

He pulled back a little, making Wooyoung chase him, but he held his ground, locking eyes with Wooyoung again, seeing the lust and hunger in those dark orbs that mirrored his own.

“What if I want you to?” he asked.

A pregnant pause settled between them, Wooyoung looking at him with a face San couldn’t decipher, multiple emotions flickering across those beautiful features.

Wooyoung licked his lips, taking a deep breath before he answered rather softly, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself, Sannie.”

And it must be incredibly stupid, and maybe those fried neurons had really died, because San found himself kissing Wooyoung gently, muttering, “I trust you,” and meaning it with his entire being.

“You hardly know me,” Wooyoung countered, rightfully so. They barely knew one another, but that didn’t mean that things between them didn’t feel right, because they most certainly did, and San refused to ignore that.

He didn’t understand where the trust came from, couldn’t possibly phantom the reason behind his actions. All he knew was that he had felt attracted to Wooyoung from the very first second their eyes had locked, and a steadily growing part of him wanted to hold on to whatever it was they were doing, even if it might turn out to be nothing in the end.

It didn’t matter that Wooyoung was a vampire, a strange, foreign concept his fried neurons still tried to properly understand, but San supposed it didn’t really matter at the end of the day. Wooyoung wouldn’t kill him, wouldn’t make him forget, and there was nothing holding San back to do the things he was about to say and do.

(His sanity might have been the only thing being able to reason with the madness that San was showing, but sanity had long ago left his body and mind, leaving behind unreasonable wants and needs that San refused to question.

Perhaps he should have questioned it, should have dragged the sanity back, should have left while he still could.

But that also meant leaving _this_ behind, leaving Wooyoung behind, and that was a sacrifice San wasn’t willing to make — not anymore.)

“Let me get to know you then,” San said instead. “If you exceed my expectations tonight, go out on a date with me.”

Wooyoung seemed to be lost for words for a couple of seconds, eyes flitting back and forth as his gaze remained on San, and he looked so pretty, so _beautiful_ , and San couldn’t hold himself back as he leaned forward, placing his lips delicately against the mole that graced the skin underneath Wooyoung’s left eye.

The gesture felt intimate, far too loving, but also incredibly _right_ , and San didn’t miss the way Wooyoung gasped at the feeling, fingers digging harshly into San’s thigh.

“Please, Wooyoung,” San whispered against the skin beneath his lips, fingers caressing the soft skin on the opposite side of Wooyoung’s face, almost to the point of worshipping. It was such a stark contrast to the way they had felt and touched before, when they were drunk on the remnants of alcohol and each other, primal urges and needs fuelling their actions.

“I really don’t want to hurt you,” Wooyoung whispered back, his eyes fluttering close under San’s ministrations. “You’re too addictive, baby, and I don’t know if I can hold back in the heat of the moment.”

San leaned back again, thumb rubbing over Wooyoung’s lip, silently asking permission. “You said you’d only use your strength to make me feel good,” he continued. “I trust you, Woo, probably more than I should.”

Wooyoung parted his lips, allowing San’s thumb to slip inside. Sharp teeth graced the digit, and San could see slivers of the fangs that were no longer concealed, sharp and pointy.

And then Wooyoung bit down, fangs slipping into the skin of San’s thumb with far too much ease, and San gasped out a sound that bordered between an exclamation of pain and arousal. But the pain faded away within seconds, something hot and heavy filling San’s brain and body instead as he watched blood slowly well up from the small punctures, colouring Wooyoung’s fangs red.

He was _fascinated_ , unable to look away, and for what felt like countless of minutes they just sat there, Wooyoung’s fangs still in San’s thumb, keeping the blood from flowing freely, before Wooyoung’s resolve finally broke.

Wooyoung closed his lips around San’s thumb, sucking greedily on the wounds as the blood was finally able to flow. He choked a moan, eyes glowing red again before he closed them in obvious pleasure, his hand that still rested on San’s thigh digging in harshly, as if he needed to steady himself, as if he needed to control himself.

It shouldn’t do what it did, but San found himself mesmerized, incredibly intrigued by a concept that he had always thought to be a myth, a fantasy to tell little children and grownups that cared enough to listen. Vampires and creatures of the night had been used for years on end as entertainment, some stories more ridiculous than the other.

But that was all they had been, really, and probably all they _should_ have been. Stories to tell, stories to enjoy, stories to frighten — nothing more, nothing less.

And yet, San found himself suddenly in one of those stories, far calmer than he probably should be considering the circumstances.

_You’re not scared?_

The question lingered in his mind, bouncing back and forth as the reality of the situation started to settle down, started to sink in. It had been such a normal question to ask in response to a situation that was anything but normal.

_Should he have been scared?_

It was funny, how the rational part of his brain chastised him for not feeling the pang of fear, for not feeling the rush of adrenaline as his fight-or-flight system kicked in, while the rest of his brain was too curious, too enthralled, too enamoured by the creature in front of him.

Wooyoung’s eyes fluttered open, the irises so incredibly red again, and all San could do was stare at him, watch in awe as Wooyoung’s tongue licked over the punctured wounds, effectively closing them off again. There was the faintest hint of a flush on Wooyoung’s cheeks, one that disappeared as fast as the red in his eyes, until his skin was fair again and his eyes were their natural deep shade of brown.

“ _Fuck_ , San,” Wooyoung groaned, breaking the tentative silence that had settled between them. He moved forward, pressing his face into the crook of San’s neck, breathing in deeply. “You taste so _good_ , baby, you have no idea.”

“Yeah?” San asked, once again moving his head a little to the side to give Wooyoung better access to his neck.

Wooyoung placed delicate kisses against San’s neck, tongue darting out to taste, fangs scraping ever so slightly as he moved up and down. “You’ve ruined everybody else for me,” Wooyoung muttered darkly, making San shiver with _want_ , “because no one will ever come close to how you taste.”

San’s fingers found their home on top of Wooyoung’s head, tugging on the blonde strands and forcing Wooyoung’s face up again so he could crash their lips together in a bruising, hungry kiss.

“Ruin everybody else for me too, then, and we’ll call it even,” he breathed heavily and Wooyoung yanked him forward again, lips locked together, teeth biting and sucking wherever they could.

They managed to get up, using the other as guidance and anchor, and San allowed Wooyoung to lead the way, their lips constantly connected and even though San was pretty sure Wooyoung didn’t need to breathe (considering he _was_ a vampire and therefore by extend, unable to die), he revelled in the way Wooyoung gasped and choked on moans, a sure indication that San wasn’t the only one being affected by this entire ordeal.

Wooyoung lead them through the living room, his chuckles filling the empty space as they bumped into the couch, but San pushed him further along the room and Wooyoung understood the hint, dragging San along with him as they battled for control in the kiss that was nothing else but filthy, all tongue and teeth.

They found their way into Wooyoung’s room, or at least, San assumed it was Wooyoung’s room. It was dark inside, though the moon and stars outside illuminated the room in a beautiful hue of soft colours, and San knew his eyes would adjust soon enough.

Wooyoung seemed to have another idea, however, as his hand blindly traced along the wall, never leaving their embrace, until his fingers found the switch he had been searching for. Pretty fairy lights lit up nearly immediately, basking the room in a soft, yellow light that was pleasing to the eye and mind. Perhaps it was too soft for the situation at hand, but San found he liked it, nonetheless. There was something about the idea of Wooyoung sitting in this room, everything illuminated by the soft lighting from the strings of fairy lights that hung from the ceiling, that seemed so fitting for the creature Wooyoung was turning out to be.

It intrigued San, in more ways than one, prickling his senses, tickling his curiosity. He wanted to know more, wanted to understand what made Wooyoung tick, wanted to peel back the layers upon layers of information until he had reached the very core.

Slim fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt, but only for a second, before Wooyoung moved the material upwards, over San’s head and away from his body, discarding it somewhere on the floor. San sucked in a harsh breath as those same fingers, cool to the touch, but so _certain_ , danced across his skin, tracing mindless patterns across his chest, down his abdomen, teasing and feeling in all the right ways.

“You’re so beautiful,” Wooyoung whispered against his lips, fingers digging harsher into muscles and skin as they found their home on the dip from San’s waist into his hips, holding on, pressing their bodies flush together.

It was a nearly excruciating friction, the fabric of their pants muting the sensation, but San could feel how they were both already hard, and he couldn’t help the groan that escaped him, loving the way Wooyoung was there to breathe in the sound, kissing it away.

Kissing Wooyoung was unlike anything else, setting something alight inside San that he had never felt before. It seemed nearly impossible to stop, his mind a constant chant of _more more more_ , and he couldn’t find it in himself to break away, to stop the constant battle for control, the taste of Wooyoung on his tongue and lips, like the best kind of drug.

He was addicted already, so infatuated in a way that felt nearly foreign. Previous hook ups had never felt like this, not even close, not even at all.

And all San could think was how he wanted _more_.

His own fingers found the buttons on Wooyoung’s blouse, the material soft and velvety underneath his touch, and he took his time undoing the buttons, not wanting to accidentally tear the fabric. He quite liked this particular blouse, _especially_ on Wooyoung.

He pushed it off Wooyoung’s shoulders blindly, hands tracing down along Wooyoung’s arms as the material flowed down, all silky and smooth and _shit_ , Wooyoung was so pretty, his body strong and lithe in all the right places, muscles toned but not too much, and San _wanted_.

They moved backwards, mostly by San’s gentle guidance, lips still locked together for some godforsaken reason, but San couldn’t pull away and Wooyoung kept on tugging harder, until Wooyoung’s legs hit the bed and they toppled over, Wooyoung having one arm around San’s waist and breaking the fall for the both of them.

San, belatedly, realized that Wooyoung really _was_ stronger than he looked, and he vaguely wondered whether it was some vampire perk, but Wooyoung was now trailing kisses along his jaw and down his neck, and his brain was chanting again, needing _more_.

Before he could do anything, before he could act upon the urge to _give_ , Wooyoung flipped them over, effectively caging San underneath him and even though San was slightly taller than Wooyoung, he felt so small all of a sudden. Wooyoung’s aura was intoxicating, his entire being almost suffocating, but San _loved_ it, loved how it pushed him into that beautiful place of tranquil submission, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this relaxed and comfortable with someone he hardly knew.

Fangs dragged across his skin, hard enough to be noticed, but not hard enough to break skin, and Wooyoung trailed down, one hand already on San’s pants, opening it with practiced ease. It made San wonder how often Wooyoung had done this, how many others had had the fortune of experiencing Wooyoung like this, but Wooyoung had started sucking a bruise onto San’s neck and once again, any thoughts flew straight out of the window, pleasure overtaking any sort of rationality that had lingered in his lust-hazed brain.

“ _Fuck_ ,” San cursed, neck bared completely and he didn’t understand why it turned him on as much as it did, because neck kisses had never caused this much of a response, but Wooyoung was addicting, suffocating in everything he did and San was already intoxicated, affected by everything Wooyoung did.

“Gonna ruin you, baby,” Wooyoung muttered against his neck, breath hot and electric on his skin, making goosebumps erupt all over.

San couldn’t _think_ , could only _feel_ as pleasure started to consume him. “ _Please_ ,” he choked out, needing Wooyoung to do something, _anything_ , because his dick was still hard and they hadn’t done anything other than a ridiculous amount of kissing and some grinding, and he was already losing his goddamn mind.

He could practically feel Wooyoung’s lips curl up into a smirk, but his brain left him without any sort of response as Wooyoung’s hands trailed lower, finding their way underneath San’s body, fingers digging into the meat of his thighs in the best possible ways.

Wooyoung hooked his fingers around the tight material of San’s fake leather pants, sliding them down far too easily, considering San had practically _hopped_ himself into them, but the coldness of the air against his bare skin felt liberating and he couldn’t stop the gasp that left him, all his senses attuned to Wooyoung and Wooyoung only.

“So pretty,” Wooyoung marvelled as he got rid of San’s underwear too, pupils dark and diluted as he eyed what lay in front of him. There was something in his gaze, something that burned with hunger, as if Wooyoung had been denied this for far too long, making him famished, and San felt his dick twitch underneath the heavy gaze. It was too much, far too much, and not enough at the same time.

The air around them was thick with implication, thick with wants and needs that oozed from their actions, that rippled from their sounds, and San could hardly think, could hardly breathe properly, eyes unable to move from Wooyoung.

Wooyoung smiled at him, in a way that made San feel like he was a tiny prey, cornered by one of the greatest hunters. His heart nearly pounded its way out of his chest, adrenaline pumping through his veins, making him ache, making him _want_ , and he must have made some kind of impatient sound, because Wooyoung chuckled darkly, moving lower and lower until his lips hovered right above San’s dick.

“You’re so perfect already, Sannie,” he said, breath ghosting over San’s dick in the best kind of torture. “So _needy_.”

And San didn’t understand where the words came from, didn’t understand _why_ he was saying them and meaning them with every fibre of his being, as he choked out, “Only for you.”

Wooyoung nearly _growled_ , the sound low and rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest, before he sunk down without a warning, taking San’s dick in his mouth completely, not even gagging around the length, showing no sign of discomfort and _holy shit_ , San was losing his mind.

“ _Fuck_ —” was all he managed to utter before all words escaped him, moans spilling freely from his lips as Wooyoung bopped his head up and down slowly, tongue swirling around the head every time he moved up.

It was unfair. So ridiculously, incredibly unfair.

San had known Wooyoung was good with his mouth, had known it from the moment they had started talking, any expectations exceeded once they had started kissing. But nothing, absolutely _nothing_ , could have prepared him for the downright sinful way Wooyoung was sucking him off right now, because it was unfair and far too good.

His hips buckled up at their own accord, seeking the wet heat of Wooyoung’s mouth, thrusting up into the never-ending pleasure. Wooyoung let him, to some extent, fingers digging into his thighs to keep him in place, and it was frustrating, because San was greedy, and he wanted _more_.

He could feel his resolve shattering faster than he’d like, the need to come closing in. There was no way he would last long, not with the way Wooyoung was licking up the shaft, not with the way Wooyoung was sucking his dick as if his life depended on it, never coming up for the air he didn’t need.

More.

He needed _more_.

The words were out of his mouth before he even remembered thinking them.

“Woo--Bite me.”

Wooyoung pulled off immediately, confused eyes locking with San’s, lips red and plush and slick with spit.

“San—”

San growled something incoherent, fingers locking around blonde strands and he pulled Wooyoung up a little, pushing himself closer and keeping their eyes locked. “I said,” he breathed, “ _Bite. Me._ ”

Wooyoung snarled something that could only be described as animalistic, and he pushed San down again, back into the plush blankets and pillows, face moving _down_ instead of _up_ , and San wanted to protest, but then he felt the unmistakable feeling of fangs moving along his inner thigh.

_Holy fuck_.

He wasn’t sure what his mind had expected to happen once he had uttered the words, but it sure as hell wasn’t this. But _shit_ , he could practically feel his dick leak more precum, body heating up at the prospect of what was about to happen.

And it really shouldn’t turn him on like this, it really shouldn’t make him want like this, desperate for the feeling of something he had never experienced before, but his entire body thrummed with _want_ , and his leg fell open on its own, giving Wooyoung all the access he needed.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Wooyoung muttered against his thigh, tongue moving sinfully across his skin, lips leaving wet kisses in their wake.

“Good thing you can’t die, then,” San retorted, pushing himself up on his elbows to give himself a better view.

Wooyoung’s eyes were so _dark_ , unlike anything San had ever seen, and they were _hungry_ , craving evident in the dark irises, and then fangs pierced into the tender skin of his thigh, and San moaned out a pained gasp, the sting there for only a second before something else pushed the pain away.

The best kind of pleasure filled his veins, making him numb to everything else, and he moaned loudly, going insane from the impossible feeling of all-consuming arousal.

Wooyoung wrapped a hand around San’s cock, jerking him off in a rough manner, but it felt good, so incredibly good, and San lost sense of himself, lost all attachment to reality as an impossible pleasure filled his body, numbed his brain.

The sight below him was otherworldly, Wooyoung’s eyes flashing red as blood streamed into his mouth, and he moaned against San’s thigh, the fingers of his free hand digging harshly into San’s leg.

It shouldn’t be this enticing. It shouldn’t make San crave more. It shouldn’t make San feel like a junk, addicted to whatever the hell it was Wooyoung was doing to him.

It really shouldn’t — but he couldn’t care any less.

His body jerked, the pleasure too much to bear, and he came harder than he had ever remembered coming, Wooyoung’s name loud on his lips as he practically screamed.

Wooyoung retracted himself from his thigh, licking over the wounds before moving up, crawling over San’s blissed out body, and locking their lips in another aggressive kiss. He tasted like metal, San’s blood still on his lips and tongue and it was the oddest sensation, but most definitely not unwelcome, and San pulled him in, pulled him closer, biting on Wooyoung’s bottom lip and sliding his tongue in Wooyoung’s mouth.

There was nothing sophisticated about the way they acted, about the way they kissed and touched, and San had lost all sense of rationality, had given in to the urges his body required, and he moaned into the kiss as Wooyoung licked into his mouth, tasting Wooyoung and his own blood on his tongue, and it was still _not enough_.

Wooyoung moaned into the kiss and San drank it all in, high on the sounds, drunk on the taste that was so foreign yet so addicting, and even though he was still coming down from his orgasm, he still felt restless, dick already half-hard again, brain hazy with inexplainable lust.

Eventually, Wooyoung trailed his kisses down again, tongue dragging across San’s skin, teeth leaving the best kind of stinging sensation, and without any hesitation, he licked up San’s come, effectively cleaning his chest and abdomen.

“Holy shit,” San breathed, eyes glued to the sight. “You’re going to be the death of _me_.”

Wooyoung smirked, coming back up to place kisses against San’s jaw and cheeks, until their lips were locked again, tongues circling lazily around each other, fingers digging harsh enough into skin to leave marks that would be gone by morning (or in seconds, considering Wooyoung couldn’t bruise).

“You’re not going to die, Sannie,” he marvelled as he leaned back a little, hot breath fanning over San’s face, his eyes dark and hungry. “Not on my watch.”

Wooyoung gave him no time to respond, already locking their lips together again and swallowing whatever words had been laying ready on San’s tongue, drinking them up and making San putty in his hands.

He pulled away after a little while, climbing off of San, and San couldn’t hold back the whine that escaped him, and he inwardly cringed at how utterly pathetic it sounded. But Wooyoung’s head snapped up at the sound, pupils dilating, before another smirk graced his features.

“I love how needy you are,” he said as he unbuttoned his own pants and took the remaining clothes off in one swift movement.

San grabbed Wooyoung’s wrists, pulling him back on his lap, hissing when their cocks brushed together. He let his hands adore Wooyoung’s thighs, giving them the worshipping treatment they deserved, as he nuzzled his face into Wooyoung’s neck, sucking and kissing along the prominent veins and muscles.

“You’re making me this needy,” he breathed into the sweet skin of Wooyoung’s neck, taking note of every gasp and moan Wooyoung let out.

And he let out a _lot_. He was loud, never shying away to voice his pleasure and it only spurred San on, making his fingers dig harsher, making his kisses hotter, wanting to give as much as he wanted to take, and Wooyoung gave his all, allowing San to do his thing, taking in everything San was willing to give and more.

There was something in the way Wooyoung allowed himself to be held, in the way he caged San in-between those glorious thighs, in the way his hands dragged through San’s hair, fingertips scraping over his scalp, in the way he kissed San as if he would die if he had to part.

It was addicting, _Wooyoung_ was addicting and San chased him, kept on taking as much as he could, because Wooyoung gave so willingly, so freely, and San was a weak man.

Wooyoung moved to the side, San moving with him and keeping him locked in the embrace as both seemed unwilling to let go, and the sound of a drawer opening and closing resonated through the room, the sound of a cap opening following seconds later.

The lube was cold, and San hissed when Wooyoung allowed a generous amount to dribble down on both of their cocks, and San wasn’t entirely sure whether he wanted to thrust into the feeling or coil away from it.

But as it was, Wooyoung gave him no time to overthink, gently pushing against his chest until he was flat on his back again, blanket plush underneath him. Wooyoung crawled on top, giving one last lingering kiss before his lips trailed along San’s jaw and to his ear.

“M’gonna ruin you now, baby,” he whispered darkly, and San felt a shiver run down his spine, the implications of the words hot and heavy and fuelling the hazy pleasure in his body and brain, his dick twitching in interest.

Wooyoung lifted himself up, aligning himself on top of San’s dick and it took San a second too long to realize what was happening, but by the time his brain had caught up with the present, Wooyoung had already sunk down on his cock, letting out a moan that should be illegal as he slowly sank down lower.

“ _F-fuck_ ,” San slurred, because Wooyoung felt incredibly tight, but incredibly amazing and the heat was enveloping him in ways he had never really experienced, and his fingers grabbed harshly onto Wooyoung’s thighs as he desperately tried to ground himself.

And then reality caught up with him and a certain sense of panic and worry flooded his veins, his fingers now digging into Wooyoung’s thighs in order to stop Wooyoung from moving.

Wooyoung looked up in confusion, brows furrowing together. “Sannie?” he asked, voice suddenly soft and _human_ and it tugged at San’s heart in the most confusing ways.

“I-I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” San struggled to say, because his body wanted to thrust up into the heat that was Wooyoung, but his mind was torn between worry and arousal and it was becoming increasingly difficult to form coherent thoughts. “I didn’t even prep you -- and… _shit_ , you’re so _tight_ , Woo.”

Wooyoung smiled softly, every trace of a killer hunter erased from his features and he leaned forward, pressing the softest kiss yet on San’s willing mouth, lingering for a couple of seconds before he leaned back again.

“I’m a _vampire_ , Sannie,” he said, as if that explained everything, and he started to move again, slowly sinking down on San’s dick, making them both gasp and the sudden friction. “I don’t need preparation, as long as there is enough lube. I don’t feel any pain, babe, only the pleasure.”

The look he was giving San should be illegal, pupils dilated and blown, gaze dark and hungry again where it had been soft and almost _caring_ barely two seconds before. It was irrational, completely insane, but San found himself believing Wooyoung without second thoughts, in awe with the way Wooyoung’s features displayed their arousal and pleasure, lips slightly parted and fangs on display.

He was so _beautiful_ , so incredibly ethereal, and something settled inside San’s heart, something he didn’t dare acknowledge or name, but it was _there_ , and perhaps it had been there ever since they had first locked eyes.

All San knew was that the pleasure was all-consuming, his entire _being_ focused on Wooyoung and on Wooyoung only, his heart thumping loudly in his chest as his eyes took in the sight in front of him, so painfully pretty, but San couldn’t look away — not even when held at gunpoint.

Wooyoung bottomed out and San couldn’t help his choked moan, the feeling so overwhelming it nearly made his body convulse with pleasure, and he blindly grabbed forward, hands finding home on Wooyoung’s neck and he tugged as much as he pulled, propping himself up a little to meet Wooyoung halfway.

Kissing Wooyoung had started to feel like coming _home_.

Wooyoung moaned into the kiss, hips moving forward, almost experimentally, and the friction was enough to force San away from the kiss, his lips catching onto Wooyoung’s collar bone instead, breaths hot and heavy against skin as pleasure rippled through his body in all the right ways.

And then Wooyoung moved properly and San was _gone_.

He wasn’t sure whether he was actually saying something that should resemble anything coherent, considering noises were escaping him, but he was in no state to reminiscence over that.

The way Wooyoung moved was borderline inhuman, his hips rolling forward and circling around in ways that were beyond anything San had ever experienced, and even though he was the one topping, Wooyoung was the one in complete control.

His hands were flat on San’s chest, using it as leverage as he moved, the muscles in his thighs constricting and relaxing under their obvious effort.

He rode San like no one had ever ridden him before — and no one else ever would.

“ _S-san-ah_ ,” Wooyoung moaned, nails digging into skin as his façade of control started to crack. It made something in San’s chest purr in delight, the knowledge that _he_ had been the one to make Wooyoung like this seeping into his bones like warm honey, filling his blood and veins with fuzzy feelings that seemed too soft for the situation at hand.

Wooyoung moved harder, faster, more erratic, chasing the high they were both chasing, and San felt his second orgasm closing in embarrassingly fast. There was just no way he could last long with the way Wooyoung was riding him, with the way those hips moved in all the right ways, in the way Wooyoung locked eyes with him every so often, dark brown _almost_ glowing red, pupils dilated to their fullest extent.

San grabbed Wooyoung’s thighs again and slammed his hips up, catching Wooyoung off guard for a fraction of a section, before Wooyoung adjusted his own movements, allowing San to thrust up in time with his own downward movements. The unmistakable sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, the smell of sex tangible in the air and San allowed his restraints to fade away, thrusting up into Wooyoung’s wet heat without abandon.

“Yes, _yes_ ,” Wooyoung nearly screamed with each increasing thrust, back arched beautifully, head thrown backwards. “Harder, Sannie, _harder_.”

And who was San to deny him?

His fingers gripped harder, hard enough that they would have left bruises that would have lingered for days if Wooyoung actually _could_ bruise, but there were none, no mark to display that San had claimed the beautiful creature in front of him, but that hardly stopped Wooyoung from arching into the touch, from seeking the friction he needed, from matching San’s feverish and almost desperate.

It was brutal, in a way, animalistic in a sense that was again so foreign, but so incredibly addicting that San felt himself chasing _more_ than just the inevitable orgasm. Wooyoung really hadn’t lied when he had said he would ruin San, because San was already thoroughly ruined.

No one would ever live up to this, no one would come close. It fuelled something in San’s chest, something that made him thrust up harder, something that made him hold on tighter, something that made San almost desperate with the need to leave his mark on Wooyoung in the same way Wooyoung had left his mark on San’s entire soul.

He moved one of his hands up, curling it around Wooyoung’s jaw, the movement almost delicate as he forced Wooyoung to look at him again, to watch him as their bodies reached their peak.

Wooyoung nearly _snarled_ and there was no warning, nothing to prepare San for the stinging sensation in his hand as Wooyoung turned his head into San’s palm and sunk his fangs deep into the skin, blood flowing freely, down Wooyoung’s lips and chin, down San’s wrist, dripping onto the sheets beneath them.

The high was too much, the sight was too much, Wooyoung clenching around his dick was too much.

_Everything_ was too much.

San came without warning, his orgasm violently rippling through him all of a sudden, and Wooyoung was there, tongue already closing up the punctured wounds in his palm, holding him close, holding him steady.

He must have blacked out for a couple of minutes, because by the time he blinked up at the ceiling again, Wooyoung had cleaned the blood that had dripped down his arm, as well as his dick, moving the both of them to a position where Wooyoung carried his own weight atop of San, and he was softly moving San’s hair away from his face.

“Stay with me, baby,” Wooyoung murmured gently, his lips redder than they had been the entire night, but his eyes were no longer red, another indication that San hadn’t been really present in the here and now for a little while.

He hardly understood how Wooyoung’s vampire nature worked, but it seemed the red in his eyes never lingered long after he had stopped feeding, the effects of blood into Wooyoung’s system never noticeable for longer than a couple of minutes.

San blinked at him, breathing still a little uneven, but he couldn’t help but smile at the almost dishevelled appearance of Wooyoung atop of him.

That was, until he realized that Wooyoung was _still_ hard and leaking above him. It made something sour in his brain and he sluggishly reached forward, coordination not entirely normal yet.

Wooyoung, however, intercepted the movement, entwining their fingers and pinning San’s hands above his head. The movement causes Wooyoung to topple forward a little, caging San underneath him and he pressed featherlight kisses on San’s cheeks, trailing along his jaw.

“You didn’t come yet,” San muttered. It wasn’t a question.

Wooyoung hummed, lips still moving across San’s jaw, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “I’ve had years to practice my self-control.” He trailed down again, tongue moving up and down San’s neck in sinful ways and San let out a small whimper as Wooyoung sucked the flesh of San’s neck between his teeth, undoubtedly creating a purpling mark that would still be there by morning.

“And if you’re still up for it,” he continued once he withdrew his mouth from San’s neck, moving up a little and locking eyes again, “I’d really like to fuck you.”

“Have you not ruined me enough yet?” San asked with no bite, and he could feel his dick twist in renewed interest. He had always known his refractory period was relatively short, especially for two orgasms in a row, but a third would definitely push his limits. Not that his dick seemed to have gotten that particular memo.

Wooyoung chuckled. “You tell me, baby. Have I exceeded your expectations yet?”

_Yes_ , San wanted to say, because every expectation had been properly wiped out of his brain, replaced by touches and memories that had been far better than anything his mind could have conjured by itself. And it wasn’t just the vampire bit that had been a not entirely unwelcome surprise, but everything else that made Wooyoung the drug San was already addicted to.

Nothing had gone in a way that San could have ever imagined, but he hardly minded. In the end, everything that had happened up until this very moment was indefinitely _better_.

But San was greedy, too addicted, and his brain already craved _more_ , his body already firing itself up again for the overwhelming haze of pleasure that had been nothing like San had ever experienced before. Never in his life had sex felt like this and he wanted more, wanted everything Wooyoung was willing to give while he still could, while they were still here, wrapped in their own little bubble.

So instead, San smiled up at Wooyoung, “Not yet. But you might, if you give me your all.”

Wooyoung’s eyes darkened in that particular way San had grown familiar with over the past couple of hours. The sight shot straight to his dick and he leaned up, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss on Wooyoung’s lips, making his intentions clear, making it known that he was still very, _very_ willing.

“Are you sure, San? You already blacked out with your last orgasm.”

Normally, San would have appreciated the concern, the caring sweetness that probably shouldn’t be said by someone that was not really more than a stranger. But as it was, his body itched all over, wanting Wooyoung’s hands back on him, his mind never having really coming down properly from the high, already in need of _more_.

“Wooyoung,” San breathed, and he didn’t miss the way Wooyoung’s dick twitched at the sound.

Wooyoung looked at him, the epitome of control, but San could see the cracks, the slivers of his self-restraint close to snapping. “Yes?”

“ _Ruin me_.”

The cracks broke, Wooyoung’s self-restrain snapping as he surged forward, catching San in another one of those heated, messy kisses that was nothing but tongue and teeth, all bites and sucks as they acted upon the needs their bodies craved. Wooyoung released their joint hands, instead dragging his hands across San’s body, nails scraping in the best kind of way.

He blindly grabbed for the bottle of lube that had been abandoned earlier, pushing and pulling against San’s body with his other hand until San had moved up the bed a little, half sitting, half laying down on the blankets that smelled like sex and lube and blood, and Wooyoung crawled over him again within seconds.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” Wooyoung muttered against San’s lips, before San felt cold lube press against his rim, Wooyoung’s cold finger following slowly after.

He hissed a little as Wooyoung pressed in slowly, the feeling a bit odd but not foreign. It had simply been a while since someone else had prepped him, other hook-ups never really caring for San’s pleasure. He had never minded, was fine with working himself open when needed, knew how to get himself ready in the quickest and most painless ways.

But Wooyoung moved slowly, carefully, pressing comforting kisses against San’s skin as he allowed San the time he needed to adjust to the feeling. It was agonizing, almost, but it made every movement so much better, and San arched into the touch unconsciously.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” Wooyoung praised as he added in a second finger, the touch still cold, even if the lube had been warmed up by now, but San focussed on the praise, allowed it to settle over him like a warm blanket.

It seemed that time had not only taught Wooyoung an incredible amount of self-control, but also how to be an incredible attentive and great lover. Wooyoung hooked his fingers within seconds, gracing the bundle of nerves that made San see stars and he moaned helplessly, body already succumbing to anything Wooyoung did.

Wooyoung pressed more kisses into his skin, along his collarbone, whispering praises as he moved his fingers in and out slowly, scissoring them and prodding against San’s prostate until San was nothing but a pliant mess underneath Wooyoung. His dick was fully hard again, and Wooyoung wrapped his free hand around it, slowly jerking San off with gentle, barely-there touches that both felt amazing and like blissful torture.

“You’re so perfect, Sannie,” Wooyoung mumbled into San’s neck, licking over the thick vein there. “You have no idea how amazing you are.”

San moaned loudly as Wooyoung crooked his fingers in a particular way, back arching off the bed as pleasure shot through his body. “For you,” he panted, eyes fleeting back and forth until he found Wooyoung’s dark irises, “only for _you_.”

Wooyoung growled, adding in a third finger without warning and San wasn’t sure whether he wanted to push into the pleasure or away from the sensation that it was too much and not enough at the same time. It never felt like this whenever he fingered himself. _Fucking hell_ , it had _never_ felt like this before, no matter who had done it to him.

“Only for me,” Wooyoung said, voice dark and deep, thrusting in a little harsher and San could feel himself slip away again, into those overwhelming sensations that were caused by Wooyoung. “Say it, Sannie. Say it _again_.”

“Y-you,” San stammered, fingers digging harshly into whatever skin he could grab onto, needing it to ground himself, needing it to adhere to Wooyoung’s request. “Only for you, Woo -- _holy shit_ —”

The heat in his abdomen was ready to burst, as Wooyoung moved his fingers in all the right ways, and San was helpless, so incredibly _helpless_ —

“Gonna come -- _fuck --_ need to—”

“Not yet,” Wooyoung snarled, stilling his hands immediately and San choked on a sob, feeling his orgasm just beyond his reach, feeling how it slowly evaporated into nothing, his dick still hard and aching.

“Not yet, baby,” Wooyoung repeated, removing his fingers and San whined at the sudden feeling of being empty, clenching around nothing as his body still struggled to understand what was happening.

His fingers were still clawing at Wooyoung’s skin and there were tears in the corners of his eyes, but Wooyoung wiped them away, kissing the stray one that had slid down his cheek.

For a couple of seconds nothing happened, allowing San to find himself again, to ground himself again, taking in much-needed breaths. There was something soft in Wooyoung’s face, something that tugged at San’s heart, and he honestly didn’t want to think about that right now, and maybe not at all.

“I thought I told you to ruin me,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Sannie—”

“I’m not ruined yet, Woo,” he interrupted, and maybe he had gone a little insane, maybe he was a bit more masochist than he had originally thought, but he _needed_ Wooyoung to continue, to finish what they had started even if San’s body would give up halfway through. “Ruin me, Woo. Ruin me for _everybody else_.”

Wooyoung cursed, but it seemed he had found the incentive he needed, because he hiked San’s legs up over his shoulders, aligning his dick with San’s hole and he pushed in slowly, holding San’s gaze as he did so.

“Wooyoung-- _fuck_ ,” San moaned, the feeling everything he needed and more, Wooyoung filling him in the best possible ways.

“Shit, you feel so _good_ , baby,” Wooyoung growled as he slowly bottomed out.

They stayed like that for a little while, San needing the time to adjust to Wooyoung’s length and width, and Wooyoung pressed delicate kisses along San’s legs as he waited.

It wasn’t until San pressed the heel of his foot into Wooyoung’s shoulder, a subtle hint that he was good to go and that Wooyoung could move, that Wooyoung pulled out a little, experimentally thrusting back in. He held San’s gaze, searching for something, but once again he seemed to have found what he had been looking for, as his control cracked, self-restraint thrown out of the window.

Wooyoung thrust in harder, picking up the pace almost instantly and San let him, because the pleasure overtook his body, drawing out any pain that might have lingered.

“ _Shit,_ Wooyoung _,_ ” he babbled, strings of curses flowing together as Wooyoung picked up the pace even more, slapping harshly into San with everything he seemed to have, but it was everything San wanted.

Their moans resonated through the room, breaths mingling together as Wooyoung leaned forward, catching San’s mouth in another messy kiss, nipping at his bottom lip as he continued his brutal pace, practically folding San in half.

There was nothing sophisticated about it, but San found himself falling anyway, lost in the pleasure and Wooyoung, and he knew nothing would ever come close to this again, not with anyone else. It pushed something inside of him to chase this, whatever it was, for just a little longer, wanting Wooyoung to be as ruined as San was by now.

And by the looks of it, Wooyoung was close to being ruined, his eyes dark and wild, face morphed into one of unrestricted pleasure as he thrust in harshly, and his eyes flickered down, to San’s neck, before snapping back up to San’s eyes.

San understood, because there was nothing else Wooyoung could have silently asked with that little movement, and he let his head fall to the side, baring his neck for Wooyoung to take.

Lips touched the sensitive skin first, so soft and gently, especially compared to the brutal pace Wooyoung kept as he fucked into San, and San could hear how Wooyoung took in a shaky breath, before he bit down, fangs piercing into San’s neck with ease.

He was prepared for it now, prepared for the slight sting that was there before the impossible pleasure filled his veins, all hot and heavy and making his body nearly crash into another orgasm. But he managed to hold on a little longer, willing himself to stay put, to give Wooyoung what he so desperately needed.

It was intimate in a way nothing else was. Wooyoung’s fingers dug into San’s skin, one hand placed on the other side of San’s neck, thumb absentmindedly tracing over San’s jaw, as he bit down a bit harder, a bit deeper.

San could smell copper in the air, could almost taste it on his tongue as he was reminded of the blood-tainted kisses he had shared with Wooyoung, and he suddenly realized he wanted to share kisses like that again. There had been something about it, something he couldn’t name, that had felt both incredibly wrong and right, all of his senses a beautiful mess of confusion, arousal laying underneath it all.

San couldn’t help his breathy moans as Wooyoung fed from him, longer than he had any of the other handful of times, buckling up his hips to meet Wooyoung’s faltering thrusts.

It was obvious that Wooyoung was close to his own release, his hips losing their brutal pace, his mouth becoming messy and letting blood trickle down San’s neck, staining the already tainted sheets.

The edges around his vision were starting to blur together and something thumped in his ears, his heartrate almost erratic, as he allowed Wooyoung to take, as he allowed himself to give everything he had, meeting Wooyoung exactly halfway in everything there was, until Wooyoung finally went over the edge, groaning loudly against San’s neck, dick pulsing as he came inside San.

It was enough to send San into his third orgasm, even if there was barely any come left.

Wooyoung retracted his fangs, tongue going over the punctured wounds to close them off, and he trailed down, licking up the blood he had spilt, before burying his head in the crook of San’s neck and letting out a content sigh.

For a while, they just lay there, locked in their embrace, bodies heavy and blissed out, their minds coming down from the high that had been building for hours and hours on end.

Eventually though, Wooyoung pulled himself out of San once things started to get messy. He pressed a chaste kiss against San’s sweaty forehead, mumbling a, “Wait here,” before he slipped off the bed and into the adjacent bathroom.

San didn’t move, mostly because he felt he _couldn’t_. Now that the hazy pleasure was finally leaving his body, he noticed he was sore all over, body bruised in places he hadn’t known were possible. But it was more than okay, as everything was just another reminder of something San really never wanted to forget.

Wooyoung came back soon enough, gently wiping San down with a damp washcloth, cleaning his body as best as possible, wiping traces of blood and come away. San hissed as Wooyoung slipped the cloth down his ass, but Wooyoung shushed him, muttering words of how he would be done soon, and San allowed the gentle tone to comfort him.

Wooyoung slipped away again, presumably to bring the washcloth back to the bathroom, before returning and guiding San under the covers of the stained blankets, quickly getting in himself too.

“I’ll wash the sheets tomorrow,” he muttered, opening his arms and allowing San to snuggle close. San move instantly, wrapping his arms around Wooyoung’s waist and pressing his face against Wooyoung’s toned chest. It was a bit odd, considering Wooyoung’s skin was cold to the touch, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, and San realized he could get used to this, if given the chance.

“That’s fine,” he mumbled for an answer. He hardly cared about the state of the sheets right now, too content with cuddling up against Wooyoung, his fucked-out brain already settling in for sleep.

Wooyoung pressed a kiss atop of San’s head. “Sannie?”

“Hm?”

“Did I exceed your expectations?”

San snorted, though the sound got muffled against Wooyoung’s chest. “You already did after that blowjob,” he admitted. “Why?”

Wooyoung didn’t answer immediately, instead playing with the strands of San’s hair that curled down his neck for a little while, and San allowed the silence to wash over them, figuring Wooyoung might not have had a reason why.

But once more, Wooyoung surprised him.

“Because I really want you to take me on that date tomorrow so you can get to know me.”

San blinked once, blinked twice, before he pushed himself back a little, tilting his head so he could look at Wooyoung. There was nothing but honesty in those dark eyes, nothing but something soft and delicate, and once again, something tugged at San’s heart.

“And I really want to get to know you,” Wooyoung continued, gently placing a hand on San’s cheek, thumb tracing soft patterns.

“You want to get to know me?” San asked, a little baffled. A part of him had unconsciously prepared him for the inevitable goodbye, because Wooyoung _was_ a vampire and San was just a mere human, and there was no way San was lucky enough that this could happen again.

But here Wooyoung was, using a backhanded tactic to ask San out, to ask him on a _date_ , and San’s face split into a smile as Wooyoung nodded.

“Can you even eat breakfast?” San asked, half-joking, half-serious.

Wooyoung chuckled, nuzzling San’s nose with his own in an affectionate movement. “I can, though it does nothing for me. It just sits uncomfortably in my stomach for a very long time until my body finally manages to digest it or when I decide to forcefully get it out again.”

“Gross.”

“You asked, babe, I merely answer honestly.”

“Can you drink coffee?” San asked, ignoring the fluttering in his heart.

Wooyoung nodded.

“Alright, let’s go get coffee together tomorrow then.” He frowned, then. “You can go into sunlight, right?”

Wooyoung laughed, placing another kiss on San’s head. “I can, though it isn’t the nicest feeling in the world. But I’ll tell you everything you want to know tomorrow, okay? Right now, I really want to hold you and sleep.”

San sighed, but snuggled back into Wooyoung’s embrace, pushing all the questions out of his mind, filing them away for later.

“Sleep well, Sannie,” Wooyoung muttered, pulling San close and keeping him locked in an embrace that should suffocate, but only made San hold on tighter.

“Sleep well, Young-ah,” San responded in kind, stifling a yawn and feeling his body succumbing to the inevitable sleep. “Don’t let go of me tonight.”

Wooyoung squeezed him softly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

And true to his words, Wooyoung held San tightly throughout the entire night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that took the time to read, to leave kudos and comments. They're all seriously appreciated and warm my heart and soul!


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